


Djuncle Eats Some Italian Food

by stroky



Category: Djuncle - Fandom
Genre: Food Metaphors, Other, Pizza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 00:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20218777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stroky/pseuds/stroky
Summary: It's just YouTuber Djuncle eating italian food.





	Djuncle Eats Some Italian Food

**Author's Note:**

> written as a challenge on djuncle's server

Ever since watching Part 5, Djuncle had always wanted to visit Italy. He wanted to see the great sights and views where our beloved Jojo events have taken place. He wanted to explore the rich history and beauty associated with its many cities. Djuncle wanted to taste the many delicious foods that the country was associated with, to experience it for himself. 

Unfortunately, Djuncle was broke, and could not do half of the things on that list.

He, however, could get close enough to the authentic taste of Italy through his favourite italian restaurant. He was heading there today, to eat lunch.

Djuncle opened the door to the restaurant, smiling as the waiters greeted him, and lead him to his seat. The seat he had reserved was a table by the window, with a view of the lake. He sat down, leaning on one hand, and sighed. Perhaps, if he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that it was the canals of Venezia, and not just an ordinary lake ending in the letter ø. 

Djuncle blinked, drifting his gaze away from the view and towards the menu. It was a simple, classy piece of paper, with delicate writing. He had read this menu many times before, and he still butchered the pronunciation of the dishes. Regardless, he read them out loud, chuckling to himself at how dumb it sounded.

The menu, like all good menus, had the pictures of the dishes they displayed. The pictures must have been taken by a professional, for they remained crisp and recognizable despite their small size. 

Djuncle could feel his mouth start to water, his lips starting to stick together. He swiped one finger between his lips, attempting to wipe away the building saliva. He disgustedly wiped his fingers on the napkins provided, but could feel more dribbles of liquid trailing down his chin. Or perhaps, that was sweat? He couldn't neccesarily tell. He had been looking at the menu for some while, and the downside to a lake side view was that the sun was there. Even with a window, sitting in sunlight for enough time will make anyone feel feverish.

Djuncle brought the napkin to his face, wiping away the droplets forming. He didn’t especially liked getting wet in the first place, much less in his own bodily fluids. His face was slightly flushed, "I should order soon, it’s no use imagining the food when I could just eat it myself." He thought. Djuncle raised his hand, beckoning the waiter over. 

“I would like a.... uh...” he started. The waiter blinked at him kindly, but Djuncle felt slightly embarrassed at the thought of mispronouncing Italian words inside an Italian restaurant. “This, and this, please.” He pointed to the picture of spaghetti bolognese, as well as a pizza Margherita. The waiter nodded, scrubbing numbers on a piece of paper, before leaving with his menu.

Now, was probably the hardest part, the wait. Djuncle swore to himself, regretting the fact that he had waited so long to order. If he had just picked the dishes sooner, he would’ve got his meal by now! But imagining things was just so fun. Imagining....

Djuncle put his head on one hand, closing his eyes. He had always been good at imagining things. He had wanted to pursue drawing at one point, to make his thoughts a reality, but drawing was difficult, and not especially enjoyable. What was not difficult though, was how easily the image of the spaghetti came to him. 

Djuncle had eaten this dish many times before. Long, thin, yet firm noodles, slightly moist from the waters it was cooked in, now drained. The best part though, was the sauce. Creamy, brown sauce, poured over the noodles, the dousing the noodles in thick, meat juices, topped with a sprinkle of white, salty... cheese. 

Djuncle felt a tap on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, dazed. It seemed that he had dozed off, and the waiter was waking him up. 

“One pizza margarita for you, sir.” He said, placing down the pan. Oh yes, the pizza! The other dish he had ordered. He hadn’t ordered this as much as the spaghetti, but he definitely enjoyed the dish immensely. He liked the pizzas here- they were just the right size. He had always felt awkward eating at regular pizza places because the amount they served was too big of a load for his mouth and stomach. 

Djuncle reached for a slice, pulling it away from the main pie, watching as a string of sticky white extended from the tip of the slide, stretching, before quietly snapping away. He picked off the basil leaves, giving it a sniff, before putting it back on the pizza. He was considering just pulling it off(plants on pizza? the hell?) but Pizza Margherita was not the same without it. 

Djuncle opened his jaws, taking the tip into his mouth, before biting down. 

Hot juices instantly flooded his mouth, tasting of tomato, a light hint of wine, and melted mozzarella. He tore away a chunk of the pizza, chewing it in his mouth, savouring the delicious mix of warm and sour. He almost choked as he tried to swallow, gagging for a few moments. It seemed, in his bliss, he had bitten off more than he could chew. 

Djuncle managed to swallow the small chunk, gulping, before biting into and finishing the slice entirely. DJ raised one finger, placing it in his mouth, and sucking. He had gotten some of the delicious juices onto his finger, and he wasn’t planning on wasting any of it.

Djuncle didn’t last long when it came to things that excited him, and food was one of these things. In a matter of minutes, he had almost finished all of the pizza. He however, decided to leave a slice on the pan. *I’ll take this with me, maybe eat it for later or give it to Fibre,” he thought. 

DJ sat back in his chair, patting his stomach, not caring that it was getting a little pudgy. He would be full already, but the waiter was coming over with another dish, and all of his hunger and wanting returned.

The spaghetti bolognese.

Djuncle leaned forward, reaching for his fork, picking it up quickly. His eyes glimmered with wanting. He licked his lips, before digging in with his fork. He spun it twice, curling the noodles around the utensil, before lifting it up. 

Yellow flecks of oil stained the noodle, thick, meaty sauce slowly sliding off of the long shaft of the pasta. DJ watched it drip for a few more seconds, before lifting it, and taking it all into his mouth.

Djuncle chewed the pasta, swallowing and sucking on the noodles, trying to get as much of the thick sauce down his throat as possible. He gulped, licking his lips to get the remaining sauce. A couple of liquids had dribbled down his chin, dripping onto his shirt. Djuncle cursed, he had gotten covered again! It was already difficult to get regular stains out, but spaghetti stains? 

Gah, to hell with it! Who cares! 

Djuncle spun another clump of spaghetti, taking it into his mouth messily. He had been eating carefully for the fear of dirtying his clothes, but it was already too late, and the sensation the spaghetti gave him was too much. He ate out the plate, lapping at the sauce, sucking and pulling with his tongue and teeth, until there was nothing left.

He was full, he was satisfied, and he was covered in sticky.... sauce. 

Djuncle tried to wipe the tomato and oil off of his face, before realizing that the napkin he was using was already plenty stained. He sighed. He was going to take a shower after. DJ sat up, raising his hand to call for the bill, as well as some spare napkins. 

After paying, and washing his face as best he could in the bathroom, he walked towards the entrance of the restaurant. The waiter at the front door smiled at him, obviously ignoring the stains on his shirt.

“Did you enjoy your meal, sir?” He asked.

“.....”

“Yes, I did.”


End file.
